Your opening line is: "So, what's your homepage address?"
You see a beautiful sunset, and you half-expect to see "Enhanced for Netscape 4.0" on one of the clouds.
You are overcome with disbelief, anger, and finally depressed acceptance when you encounter a Webpage with no links.
You felt driven to consult the "Cool Page of the Day" on your wedding day.
Your bookmark takes 15 minutes to scroll from top to bottom.
You are driving on a dark and rainy night when you hydroplane on a puddle, sending your car careening towards the flimsy guardrail that separates you the precipice of a rocky cliff and certain death, and you desperately look for the "Back" button.
You visit "The Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything" again and again and again.
Your dog has his own webpage.
So does your hamster.
When you read a magazine, you have an irresistible urge to click on the underlined passages.